The living root of the Christian faith

Tim Dalrymple tells about how he lost much of his faith at Princeton Theological Seminary — not because of seminary, necessarily, but because while there, he fell out of the practice of personal piety and spirituality. Christianity became an abstract intellectual thing for him, and he hadn’t noticed it until a severe health crisis revealed how hollow his faith had become. And then, a friend from seminary came back from a month-long Ignatian retreat — and bore a kind of witness that brought Dalrymple back:

As he described his retreat, I kept hearing a particular word — a word that surprised me, a word that I had not heard or spoken so openly and frequently for years.

Do you want to know what the word was? Jesus.

I had stopped saying the word “Jesus.” 95% of the time, I only spoke of “God.” Or if I had to speak of him, I referred to God the Son, the second Person of the Trinity, the Logos…names that sounded intellectual and sophisticated. If I had to speak of the Son incarnate, then I spoke of Christ, or the God-man. Never Jesus Christ, and certainly never just Jesus. Loving Jesus, following Jesus, seeking Jesus — these were the province of fundamentalists, Bible thumpers, Jesus Freaks, crude Christians who wore WWJD bracelets and listened to Michael W. Smith and read Max Lucado instead of Jurgen Moltmann. We had even begun to subtly mock Jesus by talking of “Jeebus” or mocking the way certain preachers shouted “Jesus!” in their sermons, or by laughing at Jesus action figures and the other strange cultural artifacts emanating from Jesusland.

But now, here was this friend of mine, whom I admired, and he couldn’t stop talking about walking with Jesus and talking with Jesus. He spoke of Jesus telling him something, or showing him something, or holding him. It was striking only because I had not heard language like that since I had come to seminary.

As Dalrymple tells it, he used to talk that way, to live as if Jesus was a constant, active presence in his life. But he’d forgotten that.

For two years I had scoffed at things like this. It seemed simplistic and sentimental. But really, it’s the simple, heart-changing truth, a truth that confounds the wise and lifts up those the world calls fools. I had left behind the language of Jesus, the spirituality of Jesus, and I had certainly left behind the imitation of Jesus.

That was the beginning of my long climb out of the pit.

This story is so, so important, so I hope you’ll read the whole thing. It reminded me of a rebuke my wife delivered to me one night a decade or so ago. We’d just said goodbye to some dear friends of ours in Brooklyn who had come over for dinner, fellow Catholics. We had done what we often did: fallen into a long, deep discussion about the Church, mostly bitching about it. Julie said later, “You know, we could use a lot less talking about Peter, and a lot more talking about Jesus.”

Her point, and it was a good one, was that for people who professed Christianity, and who took the faith seriously, so much of our time was spent on talking about the Church, and comparatively little talking about the One to whom the Church was supposed to lead us. She was absolutely right. The thing I always, always take to confession is my failure to pray as I should. I would rather read about the faith than quiet myself enough to be still and “connect through prayer to the living God. Someone, I think a Catholic writer, once said that of all the people he knew who had left the faith, it always began with the loss of intimacy with God in prayer. Jesus ceased to be real to them, and instead became “Jesus.” You know?

I know. This is one of my great failings. My temptation is to intellectualize the faith, and to substitute intellectual activity — reading, writing, studying — for prayer and contemplation. Others are tempted to substitute church activity, activism, and evangelism for the cultivation of a deep spiritual life of the sort Dalrymple mentions. As he rightly observes, “A Christian never outgrows Jesus,” by which he means a Christian must never believe or act as if simple, direct piety is a childish thing to be put away. When and if he does, he is on the way to being an ex-Christian, even if he never formally leaves the church.

The late, great Michael Spencer, a Southern Baptist who developed a wide following as Internet Monk, said it all so well here. Excerpt:

I once read someone who portrayed evangelical Christians as people using all their abilities to get other people to agree to evangelistic sentences. The sentences mattered very much; more than almost anything else. Correctly worded sentences, turned into prayers, lectures, books and so on.

Miroslav Wolf said that Christianity carries a life-lived along side its truths-claimed. Saint Francis — and many others — have suggested that the life-lived communicates far more profoundly than the truths claimed, especially if it’s a matter of which shouts the loudest.

One blogger recently lamented the callous behavior of knuckle-headed cage phase Calvinists, and also lamented the theological cynics who act as if theology doesn’t matter. Having been one and constantly suspected of being the other, I liked what he said.

He makes a good point. The knuckle-headed cage phase Calvinist has theological problems as well as human relationship problems with manners, maturity and civility. My experience tells me that the two are more related than we like to think. The person who says that theology and those who live to obsess over it are an unmitigated good seem to be, uh….a bit overly optimistic.

Take, for instance, the seminary student who discovers that one theological system has all the answers he’ll ever need. All he needs is to buy the books, go to the conferences and check the websites. In more than a few cases, it would be best if he simply stopped his education and went home until he’s willing something to learn again. While he’s certain that he’s right, and he’s correcting his professors and working to overthrow any teacher who doesn’t subscribe to his hobby horse theological system, he’s useless as a student and probably off balance as a human being. The wise and the know-it-alls have no reason to learn from those who can’t/won’t/don’t see the light. (Yes, that’s me in the corner….losing my religion…)

The real problem is whether our know-it-all student is still devoted to Jesus and to what Jesus means in his life. No doubt he’ll say that it’s for Jesus’ sake that he’s hassling his professors, pastor and friends. It’s for Jesus sake that minutia now matters more than his anniversary. It’s for Jesus’ sake that theology stirs him and evangelism/church planting need more study. But does Jesus matter? Period?

Yes. Plus, a Kierkegaardian point: if you want to know whether or not Christianity is true, you’ll be better off looking to the lives Christians lead. The sociologist Bob Bellah made the same point from a sociological point of view in his recent book about the evolution of religion. And the kind of life actual Christians of whatever church or tradition lead depends most of all on whether or not the personal Jesus matters to them.

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23 Responses to The living root of the Christian faith

This reminded me of something in an interview with Fr. Seraphim Rose’s monastic brother that was conducted for the New Age magazine Gnosis, and reprinted in Epiphany Journal (Fall 1990). Father Herman lets the interviewer guide the conversation and talks about the way “other religions” are to be seen and so on; and then, in one place, he says, “…since I believe in Jesus Christ — He is my God … I believe that Jesus Christ will take care of it.”

Truth and Contemplation as a duality is in my opinion too simplistic. One thing I’ve noticed about people who seem to “lose faith” as described in the article is often a retreat into contemplation.

All serious Christians I know and respect are drawn into active good works as a means of staying grounded to Christ – helping the poor, visiting the imprisoned, etc., along with prayer and a continuous search for Truth. I know many “orthodox” (little o) Christians who simply rarely do good works and justify it with a retreat into their own spiritual world, designed by them, for themselves. Many will claim this as a legacy of monastic life, which justifies a full retreat from the rabble of the world. I note that one of the defining signs of healthy monastic life is being part of a group, a community, under obedience. The modern faux “contemplative” usually seems to want to have it both ways: to hide from the painful world and yet milk the benefits from it.

I guess I’m saying I deny the duality of prayer and the active Christian life. I believe the two are one. Actually, Orthodoxy (capital o) is a good historical example of what can happen to a faith that leans too far into the contemplative at the expense of the world; the demographics don’t lie.

An interesting idea, but seeing lives of people can only take it so far because for every good one there are 100 bad ones and that applies to all religions, it’s just the way people are.

And even if you are impressed by the individual believer, the theology does make a difference in that it reflects the underpinning of the belief system. For example, I have never met a Jesuit that I did not like, but none of them would ever persuade me to become Roman Catholic. Likewise, in the early 1980s I had the great good fortune to know Dr. Cesar Majul, who had, before escaping from Marcos and coming to America, been Dean of Islamic Studies at the University of the Philippines in Manila. A more charming adopted father of a girlfriend I could never wish to meet. But no way was I going to become a Muslim.

In mentioning Jesus, as opposed to the Christ of speculative theology, you’ve really put your finger on it. I have arrived at the opinion that the essence of the historical Jesus — humility, service, welcoming the outsider, focusing on real holiness, the kingdom of God now — has been utterly buried by theology and speculation of the later church. In my PCA True Reformed Calvinistic Presbyterian church, there is hardly any interest in Jesus, but abundant interest in apologetics, theology, denouncing other types of Christianity, etc. We’re better off following Jesus of Nazareth than in this or that theological or ideological tendency.

I guess I’m saying I deny the duality of prayer and the active Christian life. I believe the two are one. Actually, Orthodoxy (capital o) is a good historical example of what can happen to a faith that leans too far into the contemplative at the expense of the world; the demographics don’t lie.

I’m not sure what you mean by that. I mean, I agree that Orthodoxy should, in principle, be more engaged with the world, something that Roman Catholicism has been better at over the centuries. I don’t get your demographic point, though. In the US, Orthodoxy is not thriving, but I think that has more to do with worship of the ethnos instead of the Theos (i.e., the Tribe At Prayer problem). In Russia and Eastern Europe, there was this little thing called Communism that murdered millions of believers and all but shuttered the churches for generations. I don’t see that Catholicism’s engagement with the world has done it much good holding onto Europeans. In the US, as several studies have shown, the Catholic Church is hemorrhaging communicants; if not for the huge influx of immigrants from Latin America, things would be far more dire.

Again, I’m not denying that Orthodoxy can be too inward-focused — but then again, having practiced Catholicism for 13 years, I can say too that Catholicism can be too outwardly focused. In neither expression of Christianity does it have to be this way; balance between the contemplative and the active lives are not only possible, but necessary to try to achieve. I’m only saying that I don’t see that demographic changes illustrate your thesis.

Not to pretend there’s been no historical problems with the whole contemplative-inward focus of some traditional churches, but there is a very simple understanding which can correct this, in Jesus’ summary of the law, the simple admonition to “love God with all your heart, mind, body, and spirit, and your neighbor as yourself”.

This implies that the first movement is inward, in that “The Kingdom of Heaven” is within, and contemplative of God in the most direct and personal sense. But this is inherently linked to the second movement, which is outwards towards one’s neighbors, bringing this love of God to all men, and loving them as we are loved by Jesus himself. Knowing God through and as Jesus makes it all the more personal and real, with a living demonstration of this love, rather than an abstraction. So the admonition, taken as a whole, includes both the inward and the outward movements, and while giving initial priority to the inward contemplative aspect of prayer, does not allow one to remain inward oriented in life, but requires an outward expression of this contemplative love in life, in relation to one’s neighbors. One cannot just do the one and not the other. Which also applies to outward activity as well. It’s not enough simply to be charitable and kind to one’s neighbors, one must base that on a contemplative relationship to God and Jesus, which provides the template and foundation for it, ensuring that it remains connected to the Source.

I understand the grievance that personal piety and spirituality have been divorced from whatever merit there may be in intellectual and rational examination of the meaning of faith in general and Christianity in particular. I definitely agree on the point about more of Jesus and less of Peter. But neither one points me down the road to bemoaning too much of God and too little of Jesus.

I suppose in part, that is because I find more meaning in, and am more comfortable with, hymns and prayers addressed to God, rather than those which focus on Jesus AS God. Many Christians, of course, are quite the opposite. I’ve heard many who get more joy out of “Jesus is the God we serve” than “What a mighty God we serve.” I don’t. If you are a Trinitarian, Jesus is one person of the Trinity, but not the entire godhead. I am a lower-case unitarian, not because I’m certain the Trinity is a grave error, but because I see no particular reason to be cocksure that it is an accurate characterization. I am content to leave the exact relationship of the risen Savior to the godhead a bit vague, because as far as his own teachings go, it was.

My congregation is PCA and is not like this at all. I am sorry that yours is; perhaps congregations which present the gospel in such an off-putting way are why the PCA membership has stagnated the last few years.

I don’t see why teaching the faithful to understand the Scriptures with their minds is somehow at odds with worshipping the Savior — after all, aren’t the Pauline epistles discourses on apologetics and theology? When the Bereans received the gospel with eagerness after searching the Scriptures, were they showing “hardly any interest in Jesus”?

Any spiritual act can be taken too far and become an idol. Study of the Scriptures can devolve into Talmudic casuistry — a failing to which the Calvinist stream of Christianity is prone. It pains me to know that churches affiliated with mine are exhibiting this kind of failing too often.

Well he’s is heaven now, sitting at the right hand of the Father as the Scriptures, inspired by the Spirit of Christ, tell us. Which means if we are really interested in getting to know Christ, Scripture is the starting point. Not to mention the visible catholic Christian church in which that Word is faithfully expounded and one can fellowship with Christ’s body, his Church, in being ministered to and ministering one’s gifts and good works.

Further, is prayer the chief part of thankfulness to Christ for his salvation?
Yes indeed, followed by our gratitude as demonstrated in good works, i.e. obedience to the moral law otherwise known as the Ten Commandments.
Thus Q&A 116 and 86 the historic reformed Heidelberg Catechism.

When Jesus was asked which is the greatest commandment (Mark 12:29-30) he quoted the very familar Shema found at Deuteronomy 6:4:

American Standard Version of 1901

“Hear, O Israel: Jehovah our God is one Jehovah:
and thou shalt love Jehovah thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy might.
And these words, which I command thee this day, shall be upon thy heart”

The very name Jesus in Hebrew is Yeshu′aʽ or Yehohshu′aʽ and means “Jehovah Is Salvation”

The question is not where is Jesus The Christ, the question is Who Is Jesus The Christ, for in our quest for The Living God, we need to know Who Christ is so that we can follow Him and not create God in our own image.

Rod, I agree that Orthodoxy should, in principle, be more engaged with the world, something that Roman Catholicism has been better at over the centuries.

I wasn’t making a Catholic-Orthodox comparison, merely looking at Orthodoxy.

I don’t get your demographic point, though…In Russia and Eastern Europe, there was this little thing called Communism that murdered millions of believers and all but shuttered the churches for generations. I don’t see that Catholicism’s engagement with the world has done it much good holding onto Europeans.

Again, I’m not making any claims on Catholicism here (I swear, the Orthodox have a hard time taking about themselves without the constant Catholic comparison…it’s strange because I never hear Catholics do it, it’s like they’ve forgotten the Orthodox exist, and probably for good reason.

Anyway, my demographic point is merely that Orthodoxy never really expanded much beyond Russia and Eastern Europe. The reason why demographics is so important is that historically we know a culture (which includes religion) is either expanding and growing or shrinking and fading. It’s been the way of human populations since we left Africa, and the Orthodox are no exception. They started out with a large population base and grew for a while, but then mostly only organically through births, and thus became vulnerable to outside pressure or internal problems (you see this in the constant Orthodox complaint of sheep-stealing against prots and such). In truth, other religions can afford to loose Europe. But EO? Not so much. Who would be left?

Regarding Communism and Orthodoxy, I’ve heard the claim that only an Orthodox nation could have embraced Communism so swiftly via a revolution due to the Church-State unity thing (there might be some truth here, but I remain agnostic). But there is certainly cause-and-effect between religion and culture, and the Orthodox have been in demographic cultural compression for some time. Compare them to, say, the Mormons for an example of an active, expansionary church.

Re: Anyway, my demographic point is merely that Orthodoxy never really expanded much beyond Russia and Eastern Europe.

The reasons for which are historical– though nota bene that “Russia takes in an awful lot of territory, far more than you will find in Western and Central Europe.
But that points to a simple reality: Christianity has only expanded (as a majority faith) into territories where the ruling class coverted or else where Christian powers had conquered, and the geography of Catholicism vs Orthodoxy reflects that division almost exactly. Before 1500 the two were fairly equal in territorial expansion, but then Columbus changed all that by stumbling onto two whole continents for Spain and the Catholic Church (and later, its Protestants descendants), while Orthodoxy was barred from those lands, though it did go east in the wake of the tsar’s conquests across Siberia and, finally, Alaska.

Re: I’ve heard the claim that only an Orthodox nation could have embraced Communism so swiftly via a revolution due to the Church-State unity

What “church-state unity”? That’s exaggerating the situation enormously. And how in the world was the relationship of church and state in 19th century Russia appreciably different from that of church and state in Spain or the UK or Sweden of the same era? Good grief, the English monarch is still the titular head of the English Church, something no tsar or Byzantine basileus ever claimed. And one place where Church and State were directly until one rule was central Italy (AKA, the Papal States).

Re: I’ve heard the claim that only an Orthodox nation could have embraced Communism so swiftly via a revolution due to the Church-State unity thing

Several Catholic societies like Cuba and the Croat/Slovene portions of Yugoslavia had Marxists revolutions of their own (and Catholic Nicaragua had a somewhat more attenuated revolution of their own, as did a number largely Christian countries in Africa). Those were all genuinely popular revolutions, that didn’t come to power because of Soviet tanks, so I don’t think it makes sense to say that Orthodox nations are especiallly prone to revolutions.

John E: Well, I stumbled a little to answer that question at first. I think I had a moment that was something like Rod’s (is my faith too much of an intellectual endeavor to answer such a simple question from a child?). I finally said something to the effect of “In Heaven, but also in Church”.

My wife and I are Catholic. After Mass this morning, we took our daughter to the foot of the altar and happened to meet our friend, a deacon in our parish. I shared with him our daughter’s question, and he lead us to the tabernacle, where the Blessed Sacrament is kept. He opened the tabernacle, removed the ciborium which contained the consecrated hosts, and showed it to my daughter. He said “There is Jesus”. Of course, being three, she just repeated her question again. And I said something like, “Jesus is there, but you don’t know that by seeing him do you? That’s tough to understand, huh?”

And our friend added, “Even the deacon doesn’t understand that.”

Indeed.

(Just a quick note, I share this story for whatever it’s worth – I have no idea about you John E, I certainly realize there are folks reading this blog of many different faith traditions – or lack thereof – so I’m not posting this to start any theological arguments 🙂 )

Re: I don’t. If you are a Trinitarian, Jesus is one person of the Trinity, but not the entire godhead

Jesus is every bit as much God as God the Father. “In this Trinity none is afore or after another: none is greater or less than another; but the whole three persons are coequal and coeternal.” It’s as much appropriate to address Jesus as to address God the Father, and we should do them both roughly as much. Recognizing Jesus AS God is one of the important things that makes us different then Jews or Muslims.